The last embers of the day are fading now glowing orange beneath the dark coals. A few hours ago we were gathered around this campfire, seated on small stones gathered over the decades.

Photo: The Firetender

The cool night air is drifting in, a chill mingles with the dwindling source of heat. Inside my small tent I relish the familiar smokey scent of campfire mixed with pine and earth. My sleeping bag is comfy and is beginning to warm with my body heat, insulating me from the chill. A small rock beneath my tent floor annoyingly makes itself known. It is all part of the experience.

Photo: Tent Site

Laying here I try to separate the sounds of the night. I hear the waves gently lapping the shore, pine needles whisper with the movement of the wind, and the occasional ember pops and dies in the cool night air. To the backside of my tent, a few meters away I hear a rustling in the leaves. There was a time when it would have frightened me, but after many trips I know it is only a raccoon or an armadillo rummaging for food in the security of darkness.

Photo: The Forest of Little White Oak Mountain

The family has been coming here for generations. It is a place of bonding, of family ties, legends, tales (mostly true, always embellished). Here, ancestors long passed still live. Adventures are told of people long ago whom I never met, and will be someday be told again by those who will have never met me.

Photo: Remembering Those No Longer With Us

These are the Kiamiachi Mountains of Southeast Oklahoma. Acquired long ago when only a river ran through these mountains. The old logging road and much of the original land now lie beneath the reservoir. But these isolated acres remain.

Photo: Kiamichi Mountains and Reservoir

Here our children learned to make a campfire, and how to ensure the fire is completely dead before leaving. This is where they learned to appreciate the beauty of nature, to care for the environment, to fish, to shoot, to canoe, to cook over an open fire. This is where they learned the stories that tell of character, bravery, fear, and where they learned that family will always stand with them.

Canoeing

In a few hours day will break early on the eastern side of the mountain. A spider is quietly weaving his web. In the morning light it will catch the dew and glisten as it is struck by golden sunlight.

One by one they appear from their tents. Someone will come and sit beside me as I make the morning coffee, another will stir the embers to create the fire of a new day.

Photo: Morning in Camp

The very young will scout for unusual rocks, or the occasional quartz stones. They paint their faces with colored powder created by rubbing soft yellow and red stones together. Here they learn to love adventure, discovery, nature.

Photo: The Beauty of Nature

They will listen carefully as the teens share their skills, teaching how to mark and follow trails, how to gather the right wood for building a campfire. They point out the deer’s lair, the armadillo’s hole, and discover new forms of fungus on trees. They make sure that the youngsters watch for snakes and other dangers of nature.

Adults are busy with their projects, running the boat shuttles to the main land, fishing, exploring and making meals. They set up the firing range where the kids will shoot eggs with pellet guns, the teens and adults will target practice. Each age learning and teaching the importance of gun safety.

I remember my first trip. It is isolated here. It can only be reached by boat, there is no electricity, running water, toilets, or fresh water. You bring in what you need and you carry out all that you brought. The walk from shoreline to mountain top along the old Johnny Beaver Trail is steep and long. When the night skies are cloudy it is darker here than any where I have ever been. My first trip was a bit unnerving, but now I dream of this place and know it will always live in my heart.

I have watched the generations rise. The young become the old and new generations follow, passing legends from one generation to the next, each adding their own stories along the way. Ancestors are remembered, adventures are recanted and the family is unified.

It is good to retreat from the city, to remember the sounds and smells of nature, and to bond with family in a place where ancestors still roam.

Photo Gallery

The restaurateurs of 9th Avenue come out to share their fabulously diverse offerings

Photo by Berlin

2017 Rockettes and Supporting Cast

Jockey rider

Green Monster

Flier

Yellow Submarine

Kramer’s famous Nexus of the Universe, the corner of 1st and 1st on the Lower East Side

Inside Shimmels, change is slow.

Shimmel Knishery since 1910

Wooden Oak Bridge, Central Park

Lunch at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens

Botanical Gardens Conservatory

Brooklyn Botanical Gardens Conservatory

Amateur Night at the Apollo

Mary – on the Hudson Bay

Vicki – Hudson Bay

Lunch with friends. Mary and Vicki

War Paint with my girls

Tip and Dave on the Green Monster – Fenway Park

Springsteen on Broadway

Springsteen on Broadway

Springsteen on Broadway

Surviving Statue

Statue of Liberty from Battery Park

Staten Island Memorial

Guili’s Pastry Shop

Black Gotham Experience

Browne Stationary

Spectator Boat

Roosevelt Island East Promenade

Asylum

Coney Island

Footpath

Dragon Boat Races

Columbus Circle at Night

Big Bird Central Park

Under the Bridge

Pink Umbrella

Red Umbrella

Gotham Pizza

Hudson at Night

50th Street Station

Besties

New Yankee Stadium

Gone are the corner deli’s with proprietary Pastrami. Replaced by Boars Head deli counters.

Staten Island Ferry

4th of July

Sailing to the Statue of Liberty

Established by Robert Bowne in 1775, Bowne Stationers grew as a financial printer throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. In 1975, Bowne & Co. Inc. partnered with South Street Seaport Museum to open a 19th-century-style print shop at 211 Water Street in the historic Seaport district.